


Scheherazade

by randomdestielfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Mark of Cain, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Fluff, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Light Angst, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdestielfangirl/pseuds/randomdestielfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It becomes a sort of habit, after that. Every time he catches Dean staring moodily at the walls- after Sam called, or after Dean stumbled across yet another half-read book lying around, he talks to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scheherazade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the destieldrabblesdaily 30K fanfic contest on tumblr. Un-beta'd.

Several months after the fall, the three of them finally managed to find Metatron and reverse his spell. His grace was consumed in the process, but the relief he felt at restoring his brothers and sisters to their rightful place far outweighed any regret. 

Sam left the bunker the week after, to live with Amelia, whom he had reconnected with after closing down hell. He had stayed till Cas’s mission was fulfilled, but that was the extent of his patience with a life that was long growing weary. Dean took his departure with surprisingly little fuss. Cas knew it was because of his deep fear for Sam’s health, which had never really recovered from the trials, despite Ezekiel healing him to the best of his ability. 

This did not stop Dean from stomping down to the bunker’s laundry after Sam left, to do load after load of washing. Cas lingered by the door, listening to the whirr of the machine, unsure of whether to go in or leave Dean alone to cool off. A muffled sob from inside decided him, and he rapped on the door lightly before entering, giving Dean enough time to turn away and wipe his eyes. Dean was busily folding some sheets when he entered, his back a tense line as Cas approached. 

“One of my favorite brothers was the angel Hamal,” he said, sitting on the floor, a little away from Dean.

Dean made a noncommittal noise. 

“He had dominion of water. He’d care for fish and other water creatures. He’d also watch over children playing near water bodies,”

“Mmm.”

“People, especially the women of the village who would come down to the riverside to wash clothes or utensils, would pray to him and leave him little offerings to please him. He became something of their patron angel. He was very proud about that,”

Dean slowed down in his folding, but didn’t look at him.

“He was quite lost when washing machines and dishwashers became all-pervasive.”

Dean snorted.

“In some ways though, he was quite relieved. I remember years ago, when rains had failed and a village facing drought, they drowned a virgin girl in his name, hoping he’d take her as a bride and bring rain. Our brother Matariel was the one who governed rain, and Hamal approached him. They resurrected her and left her at the lake by the village and Matariel proceeded to bring the rains,”

“What happened after?” Dean asked, finally turning around to look at Cas.

“It... backfired, as you might say. Hamal was besieged with prayers and virgin girl sacrifices for years afterwards. Word had spread. He spent a few centuries resurrecting.” 

“Will praying to him help remove these blood stains off you think?” Dean asked him, smiling slightly as he waved one of Sam’s forgotten shirts about. 

Cas examined the shirt carefully.

“I think not. It is quite beyond even him.” 

“Screw it. I’ll cut it up for bandages. Let’s go have lunch.”

+

It becomes a sort of habit, after that. Every time he catches Dean staring moodily at the walls- after Sam called, or after Dean stumbled across yet another half-read book lying around, he talks to him. About his siblings. About long forgotten civilizations. About interesting insects. 

And Dean listens. He won’t always respond, sometimes just fleeing even as Cas is mid-sentence, disappearing for hours. Sometimes he hears Cas out quietly, but doesn’t speak. 

Rarely, he laughs and asks questions, smiling fondly at Cas.

Those are some of Cas’s happiest moments.

\+ 

Dean kisses him on a Thursday. 

Cas is in the middle of telling him about how long ago, Balthazar got into a prank war with Sofiel, the fussy angel of nature. One thing had led to another and Balthazar had changed the makeup of the new batch of plants she was creating, adding foul odors and clashing colors, making her so upset she had fled to Michael to complain in tears. Dean is chopping onions for dinner, quietly listening while Cas rambles on. He’s starting to tell Dean about Balthazar’s escape from Michael’s lecture about playing nice when Dean puts the knife down suddenly, turns around and grabs Cas’s shoulder. His eyes are a little red and his expression is fond as he cups Cas’s face with one hand. 

Cas feels his throat dry, his words dying in his throat as Dean leans forward, till their foreheads are touching. Cas can see the freckles on his cheeks, the lingering tears at the corners of his eyelashes. 

“Thanks Cas,” Dean says, his warm hand still on Cas’s cheek. 

Cas doesn’t ask him _for what._ He knows. 

“I’m always going to be here,” he says earnestly, and then falters “For as long as you need me.”

Dean closes his eyes almost in pain, and the grip on Cas’s shoulder grows uncomfortably tight. 

“Dean?” 

Dean kisses him, desperate and needy, his mouth wet and hot against Cas’s. He tastes like beer and scrambled egg. He slides his arms around Dean’s broad shoulders, stepping closer into the embrace. Dean presses little kisses all over his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes before tucking Cas’s face against his heart. They stand like that for a while, and Cas can hear the runaway beat of Dean’s heart, can smell the leather and gun oil scent that always lingers around him. 

“I’m always going to need you Cas,” Dean stutters, his voice thick. His calloused fingers are in Cas’s hair, stroking through the dark tufts gently. 

Cas pulls back to look up at him. Dean's eyes are closed and his mouth is set in a thin line, as if anticipating a blow. 

“Did you know that earthworms had five hearts? It wasn't supposed to be so. There was a mix up with the instructions given.”

Dean throws back his head and laughs long and loud. He kisses Cas lightly before picking up the knife and turning back to the onions. 

“I’m listening.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hello on tumblr if you want! Love making new fandom friends.


End file.
